


Lover Dearest: It’s not over.

by AlexaMondragon



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Beasts AU, Carrier Jaskier, Ciri will get more siblings!!!, Eskel Loves Jaskier, Eventual mpreg, Extremely Slow Burn, FEAR THE BARD, Fix-It, Fox Jaskier, Fox Yennefer, Geralt Loves Jaskier, Geralt Whump, Geralt is gonna catch feels and he's WILL like it, Geralt is good with kids, Geralt learns to feel, Geralt will fix what he broke, Hurt Jaskier, Insecure Eskel, It will hurt more before it gets better, Jaskier is a mix of creatures, Jaskier loves Eskel, M/M, More siblings for Ciri!!!, One-Sided Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Parent Eskel, Parent Geralt, Parent Jaskier, Smut, Some book based story line but I butchered it so bad, Time-line? What time-line?, White Wolf Geralt, Wolf Eskel, Yennefer will show up in later chapters, don't touch his pups and kits, hurt geralt, no beta we die like men, only a little, or his witchers, protective Geralt, slightly feral jaskier, slow buurn, time jumps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23414659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexaMondragon/pseuds/AlexaMondragon
Summary: A detailed continuation of what Geralt is to do now that Jaskier chose to love Eskel. But he knows that deep in his selfish heart that he couldn’t love anyone else but Jaskier. The kids grew with the three adults; Eskel accepts that Geralt is to be part of the kids’ lives. They may not be his, but he loves each one like his own. Geralt tries to find his place in this odd little family he decided to stay in and Jaskier tries to be as open to Geralt again as he once was, but will he be willing to open his heart to Geralt again? Love doesn’t force you to choose, it can also be shared.
Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 31
Kudos: 74
Collections: Jaskier or Geralt/others (with or w/out eachother)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Imagine that a Witcher’s rumble/purr is as deep as a night fury’s) And please read the first story of this continuation, because there'll probably be things you won't understand.

The white-haired Witcher takes a large gulp of his mead and almost slams the mug down with a large bang. The satisfaction of another successful monster kill still flowing through his bloodstream and the weight of the heavy purse of coins is a comforting weight on his person. The barmaid refilled the mead and he nods in thanks.

“You’re in a lot of a decent mood, Witcher. Anything good happening lately?” The man behind the bar questions, never seen this particular Witcher giving an almost easy smile to someone. The scar running down his left eye an intimidating sight, but his eyes are slightly softer, despite the harsh yellow and ember at the edges.

He grunts as a reply and just lifts his purse, giving it a little jiggle to indicate how full it is. The barman nods in understanding. The man turns to his other customers and the Witcher is left to his peace.

“Geralt?” A voice calls but the Witcher seems to not have noticed as he keeps drinking his mead. The owner of the voice huffs; annoyed. The witch walks closer to the drinking Witcher and taps his shoulder. He turns to glare at the intruder and raises his brow at seeing a beautiful, violet-eyed witch. He snarls at the witch, her scent of potions and dead flowers permeating the air around him.

“What do you want, witch?” He growls, watching the surprise painting her façade.

Her lips set in a thin line and her eyes akin to fire. “Granted we haven’t seen each other in almost 20 years, but that is no way to treat an old friend, Geralt. It’s not my idea for you to suddenly disappear off the face of the earth and I have no time to find your sulky ass; just because I can, doesn’t mean I want to. I have other important priorities, White Wolf of Rivia.” She hisses.

The Witcher rolls his eyes skyward and Yennefer has never seen such an attitude from the white wolf in the entirety of knowing him and holds back the urge to flambé his glorious behind. Yellow eyes turn back to her and he opens his mouth to a shocking revelation that shook the witch to her very core. 

“Geralt of Rivia is my sire, witch. I am Ragnar.”

oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

20 years ago

The bard hadn’t seen hide or hair of the white-haired Witcher. Thinking he must’ve left, but Roach is still where she is and Eskel had to coax her into sharing a bit of space from the little stable that Eskel built years prior. And the mare, upon seeing Scorpion, whinnies delightfully before settling in comfortably.

“Do you have any idea where he might’ve run off to?” Jaskier asks his dark-haired Witcher. His hand running along Roach’s forehead to her snout and repeating the notion again. The mare appreciating the gentle gesture.

Eskel sighs, his breath coming out in puffs in the cold air.

“I couldn’t be too sure what he’s up to now. I haven’t seen him in a long, long time.”

“You mean as long as when you were looking out after us?” The bard asks teasingly, but he could feel a crawling dread settling itself in his heart and stomach. Fearing that he’s wedged a barrier in their brotherhood. He may be angry at the white-haired man, but Jaskier would forever feel guilty if he’s torn apart the only family he’s had. The Witcher notices how Jaskier’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and worries. He brings an arm around the bard’s shoulders and pulls him closer to his own body.

“Nah, I haven’t seen him even before then. Stumbling into other Witchers are rare occurrences. But you also rarely hear songs and ballads about other Witchers. The reason how I know he’s been in a town is because, one, the townsfolk are a lot nicer to me whenever I pass by and two, the people are more confident to tell me their monster troubles, making finding coin whole lot easier. They’re signs that he’s been here with his songbird.” He smiles and nuzzles into Jaskier’s silky hair. Breathing in the scent of milk and honey, a deep crooning sound rumbles in his chest and Jaskier snuggles up to his beloved.

“I just hope that he’ll at the very least say his goodbyes to the children if he wants to leave.” The words are quiet and whispered to Eskel’s chest, more likely a stray thought that he needed himself to hear, but Eskel still heard them.

“I don’t think he’ll want to leave, love. Now that he’s known of their existence, he’ll cross to the ends of the world to find them again, come Hell or high water.” He reassures his bard.

“He may not seem like it, but that man loves with all his heart on what truly matters.” Eskel continues.

Jaskier hums his reply, completely missing the crucial point in Eskel’s words and kisses Eskel’s jawline and all the way up to his forehead, kissing his scars and all.

“I just hope you’re right about that, dearest.”

That night as the children were already asleep, the pair heard a soft knock on the door and looked to each other before Eskel opened it to Geralt standing in the light snow with cuts of meat and dried skin under his arms. It appeared that he had hunted a forest worth of game, and Eskel invites him in when they communicate silently. Years of knowing each other, they required no words to know what the other was saying or thinking.

Geralt looks up to Jaskier and presents him his prized pelt of a white-furred, cleaned and dried skin of some animal. He suspects a deer as he knows that there are no other white coloured animals around the area except the special few white deer he’s seen in his travels to the little cabin by the coast. So he must’ve travelled far and had to have been incredibly lucky to have caught one. He lay down his prizes at Jaskier’s feet and the fox Beast was confused. Is this a way of apologising from Witchers or is this Geralt’s way of apologizing? Or is this a feat of strength that he’s providing for his pups? This is an unfamiliar behaviour to the fox Beast and he looks to Eskel for answers.

The Witcher only stares back at Jaskier and he glowers a bit at the other Beast. Jaskier looks back to Geralt then to his gifts. He can’t tell the Witcher that this is unnecessary, but seeing as he’s gone through all this trouble of tracking, killing and skinning for this fur…he can’t just waste good fur. And he doesn’t want to hurt the man even further by denying his gifts, maybe Geralt really was sorry for what he’s done but this is a far cry from what Jaskier had expected.

Jaskier gives an almost defeated sigh and takes the offered gifts. His fingers running through the soft fur and looking back up at Geralt. The Witcher’s eyes still trained on him and flicker back to the pelt before looking back at Jaskier.

“Thank you for the gift, Geralt,” he pauses, looking back at the fur and takes a deep breath, “I’m sure I can sew this into one of my coats to keep me warm, as will the other furs for the children's coats.” He nods at the man and takes the furs to his and Eskel’s room.

Geralt kept his eyes on the door for a few more seconds before he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He glances back to Eskel to see him giving a pleasing nod, “Give him some time, he’ll come around.” He pats his brother-in-arms shoulder and follows to where Jaskier is.

“Oh, let me get you a pillow and some linen and blankets for you to sleep on since I’m very sure you’re not intending to leave for a while more.” Eskel redirects to the hallway closet and takes out a blanket and an extra pillow before passing it to Geralt.

“You can put away your armour and sleep in front of the fireplace.” He nods to the direction of the said fireplace and Geralt nods in thanks and proceeds to do as told. Eskel makes his way into his and Jaskier’s room and when the door softly shut Geralt releases a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding onto.

It was a start. 

Geralt and Eskel were the very first ones to wake up moments before the sun has risen that morning, they did their morning routine of workouts, sometimes even as far as wrestling and sword-fighting together like old times.

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need, Geralt. I can’t deny you the right to get to know _your_ children.” He speaks when they were near the ocean, meditating before this conversation started and cooling off their sweat.

Geralt casts a glance at his brother-in-arms and nods, voice still clogged in his throat, not trusting himself for fearing that he’ll get mad at Eskel again.

“You know, Ragnar’s supposed to be awake this time around.” He starts casually. He smirks when he sees Geralt looking at him expectantly, wanting to hear more about his son. And Eskel continues, “He wakes up early in the mornings to watch me leave for quick contract work and sometimes he’ll be the one to wake me whenever I overslept when I needed to go.” His eyes soften fondly at the empty space he’s staring in, lost in his memories. Geralt felt a prick in his heart, knowing how much he’s missed in his eagerness for Jaskier to just be gone.

“I’m not saying this to pour salt into your wounds, I’m saying this because I _want_ you to get to know your son. Your children. I’m sure Jaskier would want that as well.” He turns to Geralt and the white-haired man turns his attention to him as well.

“Jaskier may be angry at you, but he’s not cruel.” He looks at Geralt dead serious in the eyes.

“He deserves an apology at the very least. A worded apology.” Eskel tells him, his lips set in a straight line and his eyes sharp. They’re sitting on a decaying log that was most likely washed up from the sea. The gentle breeze brushing through their hair, the scent of the ocean washing over them and it’s familiar, soothing and home to the both of them.

This time Geralt knows that he won’t make the same mistake again. He will fix what he’s torn, and he’ll make it right with the fox Beast. As he and Eskel turn to look behind them when they heard a twig snap only to see Ragnar standing in the treelines; all ruffled hair and still sleepy eyes, Geralt’s resolve solidify at the sight of his son yawning and his eyes bright yellow with amber at the edges. Those familiar eyes staring back at him and he makes a promise to himself to never lose his sights ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jaskier wakes up that morning, it is to a slightly cold bed and to see his pup, Morgan, sleeping next to him instead of a burly, scarred Witcher. Jaskier smiles fondly and pulls his precious pup to his chest, cuddling his baby in his warmth. The memories of the night before comes back to him and he frowns slightly. It really did happen and Geralt really did come back.

He runs his fingers in soft white hair, his mind already in an early morning turmoil. Is he staying here now? Do they need to find a bigger house? How will this work? Is Geralt going to be as closed off to his children like he were to him before?

Jaskier rids that last thought instantly, Geralt is many things; a boar-headed, stubborn mule, but Jaskier knows he’s soft for children. Maybe. Probably. Jaskier releases a quiet annoyed sigh, he barely knows the man whether he tolerates children or not. Jaskier never got the chance to witness that side of him, whether it exists or not is the question. Jaskier can translate his body language, can decipher each grunt and hums, could read his ticks and little gestures, but just the internal workings? That man is a mystery still.

Jaskier breathes in the calming scent of the sea that drifts from the open window of his and Eskel’s room, the early morning sun’s rays filtering through the thin curtains. His pup sneezing, jerking himself awake abruptly. Sleepy light blue eyes open sluggishly and his nose wrinkle adorably, Jaskier smiles and gives light butterfly kisses on his forehead and chubby cheeks.

“Paaapaaaa, shtooop.” His boy whines but he makes no effort to stop the kisses.

“Good morning, baby.” Jaskier greets, a knock on the door averts his attention from Morgan to the door as it opens and in walks Eskel. He smiles at the sight of his two prized darlings. He walks to the bed and lies down, Jaskier notices that he’s wearing the white shirt that Jaskier got for him from his last visit from a rather large town before winter settled on the land where their home was.

With both the adults caging Morgan between them, the pup sighs contently and drifts back to sleep, feeling safe and warm.

“Good morning, Jask.” Eskel greets his songbird and Jaskier does the same, but stretches his arm over their son and runs his fingers through Eskel’s long hair, the wolf’s crooning slightly vibrating the bed the little family is sharing.

“Are you leaving for a contract today?” The question was whispered to the Witcher, not wanting to wake the boy nestled between the parents.

“No, just wanted to wake up early and did some exercises with Geralt.” He looks at Jaskier’s face carefully to detect any uncomfortable ticks or twinges but the bard is serenely blank-faced.

“Is Ragnar awake?” He asks, diverging the conversation’s subject.

“Yes, he’s with Mordred right now, picking the vegetables and then tending to Scorpion later. I swear one of these days he’s going to ride off on him.” He chuckles at the thought, his breath blowing the tips of Morgan’s white hair.

The boy groans quietly and nestles further into his birth parent’s chest. Eskel silently apologizes and kisses the top of his head. Jaskier looks at Eskel with half-lidded eyes, his heart thudding strongly, pumping all the love for the man.

He reaches forward to grab Eskel’s neck and pulls him gently to him to share a morning kiss. Eskel kisses his beloved tenderly and Jaskier snickers in the kiss when he feels Eskel’s arms wrap around both fox and pup.

“Eskel?” Jaskier asks when they separated and Eskel lies back down on his own pillow. He hums his response.

“D’you remember when the pups were still babies?” He whispers, his voice has taken a melancholy air, his cornflower-blue eyes on the pup in his arms.

Eskel smiles at Jaskier fondly and runs a large, gentle hand over the boy’s head, “Yeah. I remembered how small they were. How they could all fit into my arms.”

When Eskel came a month after the pups were born, Jaskier had been unsure and afraid of him. Fearing that he would demand the fox Beast to tell Geralt and surrender the pups to him, he remembered how ready he was to fight off the Witcher tooth and nail for his pups, remembered how fragile they were in his arms. But the gentle man only took one look at the tired and tear-stained bard and decided to stay.

Jaskier was out that morning because he wanted the pups to get some sun and fresh air. The spring air lifting his spirits little by little, but he eventually breaks down again. His mind still in an unforgiving loop of Geralt’s words and the pain in his heart. He couldn’t exactly lash out in the gardens concerning a White-haired son of a bitch, not wanting his pups to cry and be afraid of him. His worries of how’s he’s going to care for possibly mutant pups if the good witch’s generosity runs out, where he’ll run off to if he doesn’t want to stumble into Geralt’s path, how will he earn money if he’s caring for the pups all by himself.

He knows for sure that they’ll die if he just leaves them in a den while he worries himself _to_ death if they’re safe enough as he goes out in search of food and earning money. But now, he doesn’t have to worry for any of those.

“Stay as long as ye want, I grow weary of the silence ‘ere in this forest when left alone fer too long.” She said, her eyes in a distant memory that Jaskier is curious of, but would be too impolite to ask, “Besides, ye might be needin’ the extra hands fer those youngins’.” She teases heartily, her smile wide and eyes twinkling in delight under the sun. 

Jaskier has never felt such warmth and thankfulness in his years of travelling alone after his mother passed, and to feel such kindness radiating off the witch is intoxicating, he cries just a little bit harder that morning. Destiny is a bitch, but she’s not heartless.

The pups turned to their human form two weeks after their birth, and Jaskier was ever glad of it, for he has zero clues of how to care for wolf pups and Mordred has little knowledge of the caring for wolf pups since a pack of Beast wolves would usually look after their young and outsiders are rarely welcomed to look at new-born pups and add to the fact of how rare wolf Beasts are, and you’ve got yourself a secretive and protective race of Beasts that’s unwilling to let other people in on their culture and custom.

In human form, it’s easier when they needed to be changed and when they’re hungry and when they just needed to be held, Mordred is an expert in all those areas, helping Jaskier all the way.

They tried to the best of their abilities to care for the pups, Jaskier couldn’t turn to curl up around them to keep warm; the vertical scar on his stomach wouldn’t let him. The pain he had to go through just to see his pups safe and sound in his arms are worth it, the love he felt the moment they started kicking his womb burns his determination to see the pregnancy further.

But with Eskel, Oh how he looked after them like they were his own. Sometimes in his other form tending to the pups, curling up around them when the weather turned too cold, and inviting Jaskier into his hold as well to fight off the biting chill of the winter winds.

The fox Beast remembered how safe and content he was in Eskel’s hold. How sleep came easier to him those winter months. But a niggling feeling wiggles its way into his heart.

“Eskel…d’you think what I did was…wrong? Was it wrong of me to have kept the pups from him?” His eyes are downcast on to his baby and Eskel runs a comforting hand in Jaskier’s hair, ruffling it further and the winds blew his scent to Eskel.

“I wouldn’t know. For me, I think you did what you had to do to ensure both you and the pups’ survival. I wouldn’t know what Geralt would’ve done had he known. I remembered how you told me he was angry and hurt that day, I wouldn’t know if news of the pups could have calmed him down.”

He answers earnestly, his eyes soft and familiar now to the bard.

“But he’s here now. Maybe you can talk to him, Jask.”

“But he didn’t even attempt to look for me.” His closes his eyes, trying to keep all the hurt from Eskel. He doesn’t deserve that,

“I had heard no news of his search for me, and then what’s worse, I heard that he’s gained a small family for _himself._ A witch and a pale blonde daughter. I knew then that, that must’ve been his child surprise. And I thought in my heart, ‘I couldn’t burden him with more.’ I just never thought of how easy it was to be disposed of.”

He relishes in the gentle cares of Eskel’s hand in his hair. Memorizing how warm and soothing it is as it messes up his hair.

“That may be, but to see him fight me and was ready to kill me, his practically brother, for you. I think that would be a clue as to how much he must care about you still.”

Jaskier opens his eyes to look at Eskel, and the Witcher’s gut constricts at how much sadness is held in those eyes.

“I don’t trust him Eskel…” He finally confesses.

“You don’t have to trust him, love. Just believe in him. Believe that he came all this way to look for you and the pups.”

“After _ten years_ , Eskel? And half of those I have waited and waited and waited but he never came still, not even to apologize and then leave, at least then I would’ve had a peace of mind. How long do I have to bear this broken heart for a man that supposedly said he cares? And now? Now he’s just confusing me and right when I confessed I love _you,_ Eskel. Right when I realized how much you mean to me. Right when I finally realized after so long of wondering that I finally realize, I do want to stay by _your_ side.” He reaches his hand to cares Eskel’s cheek, a smile forming on his lips and Eskel kisses his palm and fingers.

“I love you, _so much_ , Eskel.” He whispers brokenly.

“And I you, my songbird.”

“When did you realize your love for me?” He couldn’t remember when he’s done something worthwhile as to gain Eskel’s love. And the man smiles fondly at Jaskier and cups the bard’s hand on his face with his hand.

“It was when the pups were around three, I came back a week later, came back from a nasty monster hunt with an awful wound on my side, I remembered when I saw the cottage and how happy I was to be _home_ …”

~~~

_Eskel’s smile was wide and he lets out a breath he’s been holding onto, his posture now relaxed as he sees the light-up cottage. He ties Scorpion to the stable he has half-way finished and he holds onto his wound on his side when it starts to smart. The pain travelling around in his body too great, but his determination to be surrounded by the little family even greater._

_He limps the rest of the way and knocks on the door before opening it to reveal the little family lounging in-front of the fireplace, all of them, along with a piebald beaver, under a large blanket, keeping each other warm._

_“Eskel!”_

_The next thing he knows, he has three toddlers in his arms, lying on his side on the wooden floor, the children being mindful of his wounds as Jaskier treats it properly with Mordred’s instructions. Morgan was running his little fingers in Eskel’s hair and Ragnar held onto a splayed out arm, and little Kamila tucked to his chest, a little frightened when she saw him bruised and bloodied. Her shaking and pitiful whimpers had subsided and her scent now more calming than before._

_Jaskier finishes his work and manoeuvres Ragnar and Morgan a bit, to reposition Eskel to lie on his back, with Kamila on his chest still and his head on Jaskier’s lap. The boys now leaning on him on his stomach and shoulder, and then Jaskier’s fingers running through his hair._

_“Sleep, you’ll feel a lot better in the morning.” Jaskier advises, and come morning with the family in his arms, having slept in-front of a still burning fireplace, he finally understood the fluttering’s in his stomach and the warm feeling in his heart._

_~~~_

Jaskier sniffles, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears, “I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you for so long…I’m so sorry I’ve made you wait…”

Eskel gentle and carefully manoeuvres himself to lean his forehead to Jaskier’s, “Don’t be. The wait was worth it.” He smiles reassuringly.

Jaskier lets out a wet laugh and kisses his Witcher. His morning headache gone and forgotten at the moment. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Why did he lie?” Ragnar asks Mordred. The boy’s eyes lost, staring into a blank space in front of him. His fingers twirling on a carrot in his hands, dirt and pebble on his palms and fingers from helping Mordred in the garden. The sun high in the sky and there are noises coming from the inside of the cottage where his family is waking up.

“Who lied about what, dearie?”

“Papa, about our sire. Why did he lie saying that he only heard him from others’ stories?”

Mordred looks at the boy, worried that this has been on his mind for weeks. It’s a normal occurrence that Ragnar rarely talks, but when he does his questions or observations always leave the people around him in awe or anxious. Mordred knew that one day, their sire is going to find out about them, told Jaskier just as much but the stubborn bard wouldn’t listen, stating that if he only concentrates his performances in certain regions and to be careful of his lyrics; the white-haired Witcher wouldn’t even recognize his pattern and he’s confident that he wouldn’t recognize his tunes anymore.

But he didn’t count on dumb luck and that people talk. These pups are already an abnormality of their own the moment they were born. Wolf Beasts used to roam vast lands and had packs up to the hundreds, now they keep to themselves or pups were stolen to become Witchers and died in the thousands, witches of old used their body parts for potions or medicinal purposes. Family lines were finished there, kings taking in wolf Beasts for soldiers and letting them die in senseless battles of conquests and warring countries.

Humans wiping them off as well for fear of them stealing livestock or overtaking lands and homes. All that’s left of carnivorous Beasts are felines and ursidaes that already prefer solitude and are excellent at disappearing off in a blink of an eye. Most canid Beasts that survives until now are foxes, as they already lived in solitary most of their lives and needed little territory.

Mordred sighs, “This is a conversation you should have with yer fathers, but I can only assume that he was scared.” Mordred softly shakes her head, a boy his age shouldn’t bear such a heavy burden on his shoulders.

Ragnar jerks out of his reverie and looks at the witch, “Scared? Was he scared of Geralt?”

“No. More like he was scared for you. What he’d do if your sire didn’t want you, where he’ll go to hide if your sire wanted to take you and your brother to Witcher school. Nasty things happen there is what I heard and I’ve seen the bodies of the poor little boys that didn’t survive.” She closes her eyes at the memory of the empty stares of the faceless boys looking blankly to the open skies. She shakes her head to rid of the unpleasant memories and turns back to the boy next to her. His hair tied in a loose knot and his freckles just pale dots scattered over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“He only wants what’s best for you.” She tells him reassuringly, her light maroon eyes wise and understanding. She picks the last of the potatoes out the soil and brings them into the house, leaving the wolf pup alone to his thoughts.

Ragnar turns his attentions to the horse instead and picks up a brush to brush their coats and untangle their manes. He was only finishing on Scorpion when he moves to Roach, but he notices that she’s a little skittish in letting strangers pet her.

“Ssshhh, it’s okay. I just need to brush your coat.” He reaches forward and Roach whinnies and nearly bites the boy’s hand off had Scorpion not intervene. The stallion snorts angrily at her and the mare seems to stubbornly shake her head in protest.

Ragnar decides to leave the mare for her owner to brush. He takes a carrot out of his pocket from earlier and feeds it to Scorpion and the stallion chomps it enthusiastically. Ragnar smiles and runs his fingers on the stallion’s nose and forehead and repeats the motion.

His thoughts still troubled as to what is to happen now that their sire is here. Is Eskel going to leave? He doesn’t want that. The Witcher is as much his parent as Jaskier is. His papa may have tried to raise them as best as he could, but Eskel steers Ragnar to learn on keeping his too enhanced senses in control, how to keep calm when emotions are suddenly too overwhelming and he didn’t understand what’s going on. Eskel is his teacher and anchor in being a Witcher at such a young age.

As he could still recall, there have been no cases of children born from Witcher sires and inheriting the traits, and he wonders if he’ll have some magic in him like how he’s seen Eskel did with fire. He knows that at some point he’ll be training with weapons and he has to admit that he’s very excited. He looks up at Scorpion to see the stallion staring at him rather questioningly, “D’you think that I’ll get to take you around when I go witching? I would like those odds.” He starts the conversation with the stallion, not noticing Geralt, having come to treat Roach to a good brushing and to give treats, is a surprise to see Ragnar there with Scorpion and seems to be having a conversation with the said stallion. So naturally, he listens as his boy starts talking about the adventures he’ll have with Scorpion.

Geralt watches as his son gets himself engrossed into his future visions and that Eskel would most likely be getting him his own stallion. Geralt felt a deep fondness at the boy, showing what is most like the hereditary trait of conversing with an equine. He wonders if that’s from him or Ragnar has probably seen Eskel talk to Scorpion multiple times.

There was no doubt that Ragnar inherits a lot of his looks and general demeanour from him, but he knows the softness in his eyes and the gentle nature is most likely from Eskel and Jaskier both. Shaping Ragnar to who he is now and to say the least, he is very curious about how he’ll turn to be when grown.

Maybe he’ll be all the things that Geralt seem to lack. Compassionate. Empathetic, and gratefulness. And Geralt wouldn’t ask of anything more.

“…I don’t want to be alone though.” That line from his boy breaks him from his thoughts and focuses back to the boy, seeming to still be in a deep conversation with Scorpion.

“I don’t want to be away from my siblings too long, but Eskel said that Witchers are destined to be alone. I don’t like that…maybe I’m not supposed to be a Witcher or maybe I’ll be a bad one.” The last part was mumbled out quietly and he decides then to intervene. He clears his throat and the boy seem to jump a foot in the air, but no sound came from him.

He turns swiftly to Geralt and he has told hold in his gasp at how those familiar eyes look at him. These are the eyes that will look upon him for guidance one day, and this is a boy that will have full trust on Geralt to teach and guide him in the world around them; if he wants to learn under him. He will forever be in the trustful eyes of this young child, and he thinks, how betrayed he must’ve felt when Jaskier lied to him and that Geralt didn’t want to be involved with them.

“What are you doing there?” He starts, he walks up to Roach with a brush and the mare whinnies at him and nudges her snout to him. He starts brushing Roach and Ragnar looks away from the pair, hands still petting Scorpion.

“Nothing. Just…wanted to talk to Scorpion.” Geralt hums, accepting that as the answer it is and he continues to brush Roach’s mane and coat. Luckily those three weeks when he left, it seems that she’s taken well care for.

“I think I heard someone said to me once that horses make good listeners.” He comments, unsure how to start a conversation with his boy, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t start now.

“Really?” The boy looks up to him, wonder and curiosity in his eyes. Geralt smirks a little smile, “Yeah, it’s just a shame that they can’t talk back or maybe some do. I wouldn’t know.”

The boy giggles a bit, but then his smile vanishes and a troublesome look is on his face the next moment. Geralt stops his brushing and turns his full attention to the boy.

“Hey, is something wrong?” He wants to kneel, to be closer to his son but he doesn’t think that that’s what the boy needs right now.

“A-are you staying here now?” He looks at Geralt with blank eyes but his brows are furrowed. Geralt takes in a deep breath, not quite sure how to answer that and he doesn’t know Ragnar enough whether his answer would upset him or not. He decides to not get the boy’s hopes up, the question of whether his presence is welcomed or not is entirely Jaskier’s choice.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Ragnar looks away, he lifts his shoulders unsurely, scratching behind his head and Geralt realizes that’s a trait he’s seen Eskel do on occasions.

“Papa was pretty mad with you, and then you left. I thought you were angry enough to have accidentally left Roach with us. I-I don’t know.” He distresses, his eyes everywhere but not on Geralt’s. The white-haired man kneels and runs a soothing hand through the boy’s white hair, trying to comfort him the best he could.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” The boy explodes before he snarls and looks away.

“What are you doing here?! What are you looking for?!” He continues to scream, his hands trembling and Geralt doesn’t know what to do.

“We were fine without you. What are you doing here?” His voice breaks and Geralt could see from under the curtains of white hair that Ragnar has his eyes shut, most likely not wanting the tears to fall. His hands balled into a white-knuckled fist and his shoulders trembling.

Geralt takes in a breath, his shoulders slumping. This is not where he thought the conversation was going. This is not how this _moment_ was going how he thought is supposed to go.

But he doesn’t want his son to be left in a turmoil about the current situation and in some parts in his heart he felt bitter anger at Jaskier, angry that he doesn’t deem it necessary to acknowledge the children’s parentage, but then again how would he had reacted had Jaskier told him? After he yelled at the bard to leave.

He shakes himself out of his reverie, this is not about him at the moment, Ragnar is still waiting for an answer.

“I came looking for you because…” He cuts himself off. What exactly was he hoping when he found them? Did he hope that Jaskier would run to him with open arms? For the pups to just accept him as their father so instantly?

What was he hoping for?

“I came looking for you because…” He refuses to admit that he’s choking on his own words and Ragnar seems frustrated at the lack of an answer. He sniffles and wipes his arm over his eyes and turns away from the Witcher. Geralt’s hand lifted itself automatically to catch Ragnar’s wrist but the boy slips through his grasp and makes a hasty retreat to the cottage.

Geralt runs a hand on his face, frustrated with himself. How on earth is he going to make it up to Jaskier if he has already ruined his not-even-there relationship with his own children? He sat kneeled on the ground, Roach occasionally nips his ear and the back of his head, wanting his attention.

He reaches a hand back and runs it under her jaw, thankful for the comfort Roach is giving him. He stands and exhales, he needs to make up a strategy of approaches on how to earn his children’s’ trust if he wants to have a chance to properly apologize to the bard. He hears the family bustling inside the cottage and he dreads, what is his purpose here now?

He came because he wanted to right his wrongs. Wants to rebuild this bridge he’s burnt down with the bard, want to at least let himself feel an ounce of the love that Eskel has been receiving from his children. But does he deserve it?

Only time will tell.

In the meantime, he has a whole family to look after and hope to call his own.

_Baby steps, Geralt._

This may not be his purpose, but Destiny must have a reason to bring him here. And it couldn’t be just to spite and hurt him, no matter how much he hates and resents her.

“Fuck,” He breathes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooof, Geralt's really going to have to work for it now, doesn't he?? Until the next chapter!!!


	4. Chapter 4

Jaskier is finally able to extract himself from bed from his Witcher and boy and makes his way to the children’s room across from his and Eskel’s, seeing his only daughter still asleep and gently wakes her up, “Go fetch a pail of water from the river, wash yourself and call your brother for breakfast.”

He kisses her forehead when she starts grumbling and lazily sits herself up. Her white hair in a tangled mess and he lovingly runs his fingers through it. Jaskier makes his way into the dining area, the fire in the fireplace burning softly and he checks the cauldron to see that Modred has started a thick broth, filled with vegetables and meat from Geralt’s hunt. The bard can feel the headache coming on, this is a problem that he needs to tackle on delicately but then again, he is sure that Geralt would like to be blunt than Jaskier beating around the bush.

This is not how he expected his life to go.

He sees on the table the meats and vegetables to be preserved and sets to work. He salts the meat and his mind drifts on the upcoming winter months. He can’t exactly tell Geralt to shove off into the cold. Roach wouldn’t survive the cold in her age. But it’s still in the early stages of winter, surely…No, no, no, he won’t subject them to the cruel winter chill like that.

He hears the backdoor open and he turns to see Mordred walking in with more herbs and vegetables in her arms.

“Good morning, Mordred. Where’s Ragnar?”

“He’s tendin’ to the horses, ‘e’s fine, Jaskier.” She teases him and Jaskier playfully rolls his eyes at her. They start to preserve venison and herbs. With Eskel with them, finding food became a lot easier but it makes finding a contract that much harder. Even monsters hibernate during winters. And he’s not a fan of the snow and chilly breeze. He would rather huddle up in a puppy pile with all of them shifted and cuddled in front of the fire.

Sometimes Jaskier could feel the guilt of keeping him from his what family he has left climb up his spine but he reminds himself that Eskel can leave whenever. He’s not exactly bound to them. Something Jaskier occasionally reminds him but the Witcher merely snorts in amusement and runs a soothing hand in his hair. Then the subject is dropped. Now he feels like he's grasping at straws. He feels like his world is beginning to fall apart in front of him. 

They didn’t exactly talk much within the early few years of their odd instant dependency on each other, but Jaskier can tell that the longer the Witcher spends time with his pups, the more open and less tense he looks. Like he’s dropping a heavy load off his broad shoulders and as if he doesn’t need to be looking behind his back every two seconds.

“Jask, can I ask yee somethin’?”

Jaskier shakes himself out of his musings and turns his attention to the witch next to him, prompting her to ask with a nod.

“How old were yee when you were pregnant wit’ the little ones?” She glances at him, maroon eyes knowing and the fox Beast exhales slowly.

“I was only 90 when I was pregnant with them.” He hears a sharp intake of breath and knows that the witch is looking at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. She looks away and shakes her head, the scent of sympathy starting to permit the air around the two.

“So young, no wonder yee ran.” Jaskier hums in reply.

Being an elf, even a half-elf, the half-elf still retains the life expansion and physiology of the elf sire or mother. An elf’s proper age of breeding is 120, Jaskier being pregnant at the age of 90 is the equivalence of being pregnant at 16 or older. When Jaskier met Geralt, he was at the precipice of teenhood and was carefree and naïve and so in love. He wanted adventure, daring stories to sing to, the drama of other nobles and people to profit off of, fleeting romance. But what he mostly got when with the white-haired man was being reprimanded, scolded, insulted, and degraded and his heart still stands up for the man. Defends him as the world has personally wronged the White wolf Beast. Trying and trying and trying to be good and to please and to not be thrown away and to be involved with his life in general. Jaskier was patient, oh was he so patient with him, but what he got were betrayal and second-hand affections. Only given the bits and pieces of the broken parts of the man that he had to shape and fix and coddled, just so the white-haired man can shower the affections onto the witch. 

Just the thoughts and memories of his wasted time as a youth filled him with overwhelming sadness and the tears flood his vision, but he refuses to let them fall. That part of his past is over. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He _will not_ let Geralt’s presence ruin the good things he’s got going around here. This life that he’s built from scratch was his to protect, and a mistake from the past will not deny him the joy that he’s beginning to build with Eskel.

oooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOOooo

Ragnar diverts from running to the house and heads straight to the little part of the beach where he spends his time with his family or more often alone to meditate. He needs to get away from it all, it’s hurting him. It hurts and he doesn’t know how to make it stop!

Everything is confusing! His mother’s betrayal hurts! Everything is off balance! This isn’t fair!

He shifts mid-jump and his clothes torn from his claws and teeth and he runs across the beach to get to the cove. His animal brain in the forefront of his mind and taking over his emotions and locking them up and toss them to the far back of his brain. He stops at the designated area and just plops himself comfortably in the soft sand. The sun is giving weak rays of heat to him and he soaks it all up. He’s sure that breakfast is to begin soon, but with the feelings that are boiling in his belly and the turmoil of confusion and betrayal running amok in his head, he’s sure that he’ll ruin the breakfast atmosphere at the table.

It’ll be expected that one of his siblings will reach to him to bring him to breakfast, so he has little time to gather his thoughts.

His birth parent lied to them all that they were born unique, sugar-coating how much of an abomination Ragnar’s lineage is, lied about their sire being just a passing story to them, not knowing how intimate they once were and when the sire came back to look for them, their mother decided to tell them that the man never even knew of their existence. If he came all the way here for them, does that mean he did love his birth parent and cared for his pups as Eskel would? Should his birth parent stay with Geralt, would they be in love, despite the obvious pain and lightly coated anxiety from Jaskier in their ‘relationship’? Or would his birth parent only stayed because he desperately needed help raising them and then eventually Geralt would grow to hate and resent them when he finds his Child Surprise? His _actual_ _destined_ child? He and his siblings weren’t exactly his destined anything, aren’t they?

All these thoughts running around his mind intensifies until he whines pitifully into his large paws.

_What happens now?_

In the distance, he can hear the distant footfalls of, most likely, one of his siblings, and when they reach him he can scent that it’s his sister that has come to fetch him. He doesn’t look up at her as she nears and stands near him.

“So, sulking big time, huh puppy?” She giggles when all she got for a reply is a gruff ‘woof’.

She looks out to the sea, the green-blue waves rolling over each other and the foam floating lazily on the surface. She imagines that this is what’s going on in Ragnar’s head. All full of foam and waves crashing over one another. She would know because that’s what’s going on in her head.

She takes in the scent of the sea and exhales slowly. The birds have flown to warmer parts of the world, so the music she enjoyed listening of theirs the birds took with them.

“Look, things may have to change around here, Ragnar. But that doesn’t mean that we have to pretend that nothing is wrong. We can only … cope. I know you’re probably hurt that Papa lied to you, he lied to me too. He lied to Morgan too. I normally don’t always think this, but since you’re the oldest, we need you to anchor us. You’re the most stable out of us and seeing you like this hurts me. Morgan may not show it, but we both know how torn up he is about this. So, please, let’s be normal for a while. For us?”

She runs her fingers through shaggy white fur and he grumbles uncertainly. He seems to have decided after a short while, and stands on the black sand, he turns to look at Kamila in the eyes, his harsh yellow burning into her cornflower-blue eyes. She nods and stands, starting the trek back to the cabin with her wolf brother next to her.

Things are different now. Geralt may be their sire, but he’s nothing more than a stranger. She hates this. She wants to turn back to three weeks ago when everything was _normal_. Where she was blissfully unaware of the man that was responsible for her and her brothers. She’s always thought, believed, that Eskel is their father. She just thought that he was uncomfortable being called ‘da’, because every time one of them did, Jaskier always corrects them back to using Eskel.

But because of their Papa’s lies, how is Eskel feeling about this? She does not doubt that he loves Papa so much, but with their sire here, will he back away from them? Will he leave? She loves her Da, no matter the title he holds; companion, Papa’s friend now lover, their pack Alpha, Eskel will _always_ be her Da.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short, I apologies, because my brain cells are at college assignments, (I know, I know, bad excuse), but I'll try to upload regularly!! Have faith!! This sequel will be a bit longer than the first part but I'm still unsure about just how many chapters is this sequel going to get.


	5. Chapter 5

When Jaskier hears the door open and his daughter talking, he turns to greet them only to suck in a gasp. His son is in his wolf form. He’s only ever in his wolf when distressed or playing with his siblings. Jaskier releases a breath and walks up to his boy, already reaching his waist and he still has some growing to do. He runs gentle fingers through the boy’s jaw and scratches his forehead and ears.

“Go dress up and come out for breakfast.” He kisses his boy’s forehead and Ragnar trots to his room.

He looks to his daughter for explanations and she just shrugs helplessly. Jaskier refrains from asking, he doesn’t know what’s going on in his children’s heads. Ragnar may not have shown any outward emotion, but he knows that both Morgan and Kamila are adequate at bottling up what’s troubling them. They probably learned that from him. Bullocks. That’s not what he wants his children to learn from him. He just wants them to be able to talk to either him or Mordred or Eskel about whatever is troubling them. He didn’t want a repeat mistake from when he was with Geralt and ignored their silence, with Geralt, his hums and grunts were the bare basics of conversations that he’s ever gotten, alright maybe sometimes a few coherent sentences but he didn’t want his children to inherit that from the man. It seems that he didn’t want them to inherit anything from the grumpy Witcher. Their white hair is a tragedy that he can’t rid of.

His shoulders slump in defeat. 

Just then Eskel walks into the kitchen with Morgan and kisses Jaskier’s cheek. He looks at Jaskier with a worried curiosity in his eyes and Jaskier suspects that he saw wolf Ragnar walking back to his room. Jaskier shakes his head and mouths, ‘later.’

“Why don’t you call Geralt in for breakfast, he needs to eat too.”

Maybe he was too indifferent with the situation at hand, but he wants to at least accept that this is his reality now. But he knows that if he keeps ignoring the situation at hand, things would never be resolved. But, he didn’t want to resolve things now did he? He ran away from Geralt, let him stew in his hurt and frustrations just like what Jaskier was doing for years after he ran. Maybe he must’ve thought that he really truly mattered to Geralt, delusioned himself into believing that he himself, his words, his presence, his general being has any worth to Geralt. He wonders how long the Witcher must’ve kept all those frustrations in himself, let it stew and grow as the years pass by.

You don’t say those things if they haven’t been troubling you for so long.

Eskel walks in with Geralt just as Jaskier is distributing the broth in bowls along with a healthy amount of bread and cheese on large plates on the centre of the table.

Ragnar comes into the kitchen and automatically sits on a chair next to Kamila, who is sitting on the right side of Geralt and Eskel sits next to Morgan, who’s is next to Jaskier, again putting himself between the two adults. Mordred sits at the head of the table and only gives the white wolf a polite smile before she starts eating. The children wait for their parents to start eating then they help themselves to the food.

The atmosphere is heavy with tension, but both Jaskier and Morgan seem to be acting as if everything is fine like it’s normal, Ragnar seems to be able to hold onto a relaxed composure but then when Kamila starts a conversation with Geralt, the bard can see his eldest jump at the slightest sound.

“Sooo, where do you always go to for winter? Do you just claim a barn for the winter and scare people away?” She stares at Geralt with large inquisitive eyes and Geralt seems to clam up the moment his daughter turns to him.

Jaskier had to hold in a giggle at the image of Geralt scaring away the farmers with his scowl alone, and maybe sicking Roach upon them. 

Geralt seems to notice that she takes more from the bard than him, her eagerness to learn more about a stranger she just met, the odd topic of conversation and the evident wonder in her cornflower-blue eyes, she’s definitely taken more from Jaskier than he, well, maybe the hair and fair skin are from him but that’s all.

He clears his throat and scowls at Eskel as the other Witcher seems to be choking on his bread and cheese. She’s never asked Eskel these things, she just assumes that he’s always spent the winter with them since forever and she knows nothing of Kaer Morhen nor anything regarding Witcher, even as a piece of general knowledge.

Geralt wonders, have the three of the adults never really bothered telling the pups _anything_ about their sire and Eskel’s past? That… disappoints him, an ache in his chest that he couldn’t understand. Their pasts are what made them who they are today and he wants his pups to accept him as who _he_ is.

He turns to his daughter and clears his throat, “Uh, no. I. Don’t do that.” He stops and when she doesn’t look away and continues to stare at him, he knows that she’s not satisfied with that answer, so he tries to elaborate.

“Uh, I go to a hidden castle ruin, which was also a school for Eskel and me.” He finishes and she seems to accept that answer as it is and continues to eat.

“So you go back to a ruined castle like outlaws?” Morgan deadpans and Kamila coughs on her broth. Ragnar seems uncomfortable with that and he keeps his eyes glued to the table. His breakfast barely touched.

Jaskier seems to be startled with that acidic sneer and chides his son, “Morgan! That’s very rude! Apologize to Geralt.”

His son seems to seethe a little and begrudgingly apologizes. But he still won’t look at Geralt’s direction and he continues to eat as if nothing he had said affected anyone around the table.

“Sorry.”

Geralt feels a trickle of sweat roll down the back of his neck and waves away the apology. He could’ve elaborated it better and he didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes considering his delicate position within this family.

Breakfast went on like that for a while, Eskel keeps bringing up conversations with Geralt, generally asking him about the keep and everyone else. Apparently there was one moment where Lambert pissed of the wrong farmer and said farmer sick his aggressive goose upon him, Eskel would only comment that the Witcher should’ve seen that coming, it was an overdue payback if he kept being an ass to everyone, the witch then informs the pups of their writing and reading lessons for today, Kamila groaned at that and slumps in her chair a bit. The witch merely shrugs and finishes her breakfast.

“Knowledge waits for no one, dearie. And Morgan, you are to accompany me to town today, we’ll be getting new potions and herbs at the apothecary, my garden’s stock seems to have run out of ashwagandha and milk thistles,” she eyes the bard and he clears his throat, his cheeks a light dusting of pink, but his eyes are hyper-focused on his almost gone breakfast.

By the time breakfast has concluded, Eskel takes Geralt out to chop firewood and Jaskier stays at the cottage with the remaining children, Mordred dressed Morgan in his fine fur-lined coat, the fur stitched inside of the coat to preserve heat and to be more comfortable. Jaskier sends them off with a reminder for Morgan to behave and the boy kisses Jaskier’s cheek goodbye before running off to catch up with Mordred.

He sighs, suddenly tired, his son can be so cynical and harsh, but Jaskier can’t blame him. This is just as sudden to him as it is to Jaskier, the bard concludes that the boy just needs to spend some time with Geralt, then he’ll see that Geralt is not a threat.

OOOoooOOOoooOOOoooOOO

Eskel and Geralt went deeper into the woods about a quarter-mile away from the cottage where the trees are abundant, thicker and more flammable, at the very least a few blocks of wood of these trees thrown in and it can keep them warm for a maximum of three days if the fire keeps going. They took the horses without their saddles and brought along a few extra ropes to tie the wood onto them and Eskel is sure any extra can be carried back by the two of them.

They start to chop a large tree, it seems to have endured hundreds of winters but still stand strong and proud, and it took almost the rest of the morning to chop it up into manageable sizes to carry back. This familiar routine seems to be relaxing the dark-haired Witcher who has been feeling off the moment Geralt came back from his impromptu 3-week disappearance.

He’s always been comfortable with Geralt, but his instincts and body are telling him that it’s another wolf Beast in _his_ territory and he _needs_ to chase them away! His instincts are telling him that he needs to keep a close eye on Geralt, fearing that he’ll do something that will force Eskel’s hand in permanently removing him from the equation. He snarls a bit at himself when he feels bitter satisfaction at his pup’s earlier snide comment. He’s not understanding what’s going on with himself, his wolf and he are not in tune with each other now. He _knows_ Geralt is safe and to be trusted, but his instincts are flaring to scare away an intruder, a threat to his pack.

He must’ve dazed too into his head he didn’t realize he’s stopped chopping until Geralt nudged him awake.

“Are you alright?” The concern is showing on his face, but if you can’t read Geralt then he would look like he’s annoyed at the sudden pause in working.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Was just…lost in my head,” he nods to himself as if that’s the most logical explanation.

Geralt hums, taking that as the answer it is and went back to chopping the wood. Geralt though, he seems to have something to let out when Eskel seems content with the silence.

“How did you find them?” His question is innocent, the way he asks him is as if he finds the weather slightly better than usual this winter.

Eskel shakes himself from the distrust he’s suddenly feeling, wanting to feel at ease with Geralt. This is his _brother_ for Melitele sakes!

He shifts his gaze to look at Geralt then focuses back on chopping the wood.

“I actually was looking for _you_ , funnily enough. I knew to find you can be difficult, so my logic was, find the bard then I’ll find you.” He pauses.

“I just never expected to find him the way I did.” Memories of the vulnerable and broken look the bard was sporting flashes into the front of his mind and he takes in a deep breath.

“You’re actually really lucky, you know.” He hefts the chopped wood into a bunch and ties them together before lifting them up and depositing them on Scorpion’s back. He’s getting old now, but a warhorse still has its uses even if he can’t travel as far anymore.

“How am I lucky, pray tell?” Eskel could hear the hidden threat under his monotonous air and he knows he has to be careful in what he says next.

“You may hate Destiny and believe in choices, but Destiny has certainly favoured you more. Gave you a loving bard, a wonderful companion and partner. Even more, you’re blessed with these beautiful children.” He touches the ugly scars on his face. Has always believed that Destiny has abandoned him to fend for himself in the world, giving him these ‘badges of honour’ to parade around.

But he turns to Geralt, his eyes soft still as he looks at the practically unmarred man. “And I have never been jealous of whatever you’ve accomplished. I always believed that Destiny has the best courtesies saved only for you. But when I met Jaskier, never have I ever felt like I was truly forgotten by her. I know how we are equal in every fighting prowess and magical casting skillsets, and I know that I would always surrender to you in our trainings because I know you strive to be the best and I just wanted to live long enough to see the next sunrise. You hate whenever I do that, but I never cared.”

He grips the handle of the axe tighter when he sees how Geralt closes himself before his eyes. How his eyes held absolutely no feeling and he is devoid of any expression on his face. Akin to a rock he seems to hide how he’s feeling. But he knows for a fact that Geralt is stewing, he may be able to fool the general people and Beasts around him, but Eskel has known this man for as long as he has been breathing.

He notices the clenching of his jaw and the slight twitch in his left eyebrow, when Geralt is angry, at the very least his eyes show it. It burns into your soul but when he’s livid, no one is able to pinpoint the exact moment he could snap. He’s seen this on very rare occasions that people that have hurt him truly and cuts him deep to the core. Not many people can accomplish that, but it seems like Eskel has more capabilities in breaking the very few things he keeps close to himself.

“I’ll never let him go. I won’t surrender this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of the sadness now, but I'll bring more of the fluffs soon!! Might take a while tho!

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo to my old readers and potential new readers!! So, this did not become the one-shot I promised, but I did promise a continuation hehehehehe! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this, it fuels me to write more!!


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